Disenchanted
by Starlit Sea
Summary: Who knew a disenchanted love affair such as theirs, could ever lead to such disastrous consequences. In a world of corruption and false thoughts of peace, can a group of disenchanted teenagers thrive? [KataraxZuko (hopefully)]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the ATLA characters, only the OCs and the plot.**

 **ooo**

Hollow wails and ragged breathing haunted the dimly lit room of four, beige walls. The chamber, a kitchen to be exact with one, sole opening in the place of a rectangular door, housed kitchenware and selves and an assembly of timber tables and chairs of dull, earthy shades of green, yellow, and brown. A lonesome, murky shadow of a trembling body was present on the floor, the heavy, nervous steps generating a creaking sound on the palm wood.

The owner of that trembling body whose heavy, nervous steps generated a creaking sound on the palm wood, was a woman. From her rear profile, she seemed young, very young indeed: thick, midnight tresses combed in a complex braid by trembling fingers, cascaded her slender body.

Across her, on top of the kitchen island, she had situated a fine china with designs of pristine, blue blossoms to brew tea. Beside it, three, green cups awaited to be filled with the golden, scorching substance the china carried in its interior.

The paleness of two, very feminine-looking palms touched the porcelain and guided it to the three, green cups, the steamy tea flooding their emptiness.

Setting the teapot back, the woman pressed her hands firmly on the island, her posture crumbling and the echo of muffled sobs daring to escape her throat nestling in the silence.

Her eyelids were sealed closed, dark, thick lashes resting with pressure against the burnt skin of her high cheekbones. Her lips, which under any other, less mournful circumstances would have been stained a mellow, rosy tone, were pressed together in a thin line.

Her scalp hunched, dark, midnight strands covering her eyes, as the sight of streaming, crystal-like tears followed beneath.

A pair of heavy steps entered the room that belonged to a tall, tanned, muscular man with saddened, cerulean eyes. A low breath left his chapped lips, as he stopped to a halt behind her form. His right arm circled her lithe waist around her stomach, the left wrapping her around the shoulders, his nose and mouth brushing the exposed skin of her neck in a comforting manner.

Instantly, the woman abandoned any urge to resist the sobs any embraced in return the man, her head nestling against his muscular chest, her tears sullying shamelessly the chartreuse fabric of his robes.

"I-I can't do this! I'm not, no, not ready yet!" her words resembled a lament, as the man pressed his chin on the crown of her head, whispering in hushing tone.

"It'll be alright, it'll be alright..." he repeated in a mantra.

The mourning woman continued her lamentation, the man continuing comforting her and kissing her softly, all in total silence.

"Lara..." a hoarse voice of an elder person called from a different room, the woman wiping her tears and taking the tray of two cups -the third belonging to the man beside her- and rushed to the caller.

She had emerald eyes, pouring melancholy.

Her feet ached, knees threatening to collapse. As she walked past the living room, which was occupied by the youth and her adolescent son and nieces, the corners of her vision caught a glimpse of her niece, a girl so full of _fire_ and passion, attempting to inquire information from her eldest brother.

"Zona, where are mama and papa? I heard Aunt Lara crying in the kitchen! Why was Aunt Lara crying?" questioned the toddler with such innocence, her garnet irises glimmering and augmenting in size, the dark-haired woman thought they might burst out of their sockets.

 _"Why was aunt Lara crying?"_ the words that stemmed from a mouth so pure, naive, and youthful repeated themselves in her mind, as she sensed her heart skipping a handful of beats.

Lara's soul couldn't bear it any longer; for months, she has been awake and away from her children, investing her everything in taking care of her beloved parent, and when it seemed the spirits were on their side, his health declined once more.

Her mother had died a year ago and now, she had to prepare herself and the rest of the world for her father's perishment, Avatar Aang, His grace.

She stood right before the entrance of his room, a warm, welcoming flash of an orange light escaping from underneath the door. Her nostrils dilated as oxygen penetrated her nose and filled her lungs. Her teeth bared and bit her lips, to suffocate the upcoming cry, and they mildly bit the mole above her upper lip. Her brows arched, almost reaching the roots of her hair, as emerald orbs rolled back to hold back the tears. With a hoisted chin and a long exhale, she decided it was time.

The hinges of an old, oak door creaked open, her form stepping in a bedchamber of yellow-dyed walls, adorned with ink paintings of a grinning man and a smiling woman, in all the stages of life.

In the middle, a bed was located, where the caller, an elderly man was lying with his head tucked on the white pillows. He wasn't young anymore, but not very old either: he was in his mid-sixties, sixty-six actually, and yet he was capable -amongst other talents and skills- to preserve a mirthful façade, an effort to keep his children calm.

The woman, Lara, set the platter on the nightstand nearby and sat on her father's deathbed. Her hands, not ceasing their shaking, adjusted her father's stance and offered him a cup of his favourite tea.

Dimming grey observed the fatigue in the person near him; as if every small movement caused her immense pain. And he was the reason behind it all.

"Lara..." he whispered softly, in a fashion as if to comfort his child, "you can cry if you want to. I'd never stop you!" he encouraged, words sounding so foul at the very moment.

"Oh, papa... I could never!" she admitted in dismay, the cries lingering on her lips, as a pair of calloused, ageing palms embraced hers. Crestfallen emerald gazed somberly the contrast of their skins; his a wrinkled, fading lurid tone, and hers a tanned flesh of mild gold.

Abruptly, a knock echoed against the half-locked door, and two new figures invited themselves in.

A male and a female, both possessing similar characteristics of mellow, grey eyes, sable hair, and curvy dimples carved on their cheeks. Needless to say, the pair were twin brother and sister; Bumi and Melia, and the younger siblings of Lara, as just like her, they had a dark, beauty mark above their lip.

"Father..." exhaled the man and rushed to the elder, his twin following behind him.

"Papa!" exclaimed she, tears blurring her eyes, as the four leaned for a familial embrace.

The door creaked again.

A tall, boy with brown hair and cold, green eyes entered, his arms protecting the fragile infant on his chest. Instantly, his father appeared behind him, Lara's muscular husband, holding two young children by each hand.

"Mama! Mama!" cried the toddlers, their garnet irises glimmering with joy as they made haste to their mother. She, although grieving, she accepted the youth within her arms, her head nestling the vacancy between their necks.

The girl cuddled the crown of her head against the woman's collarbone, trying to envelop herself in her mother's scent of fire lilies. Oh, how she missed them! Back at her home at the Fire Nation, Lava and Zona would often visit their mother's garden, while their parents supervised them.

Time had passed by painfully since their mother had left their little cottage of warmth to return to her roots, back to the Earth Kingdom, for reasons, nor Lava nor Zona knew of. One day, while they were thanking Agni before pouncing on their meal, a messaging hawk grazed the front door of their house, a white letter with a crimson sealing wax wrapped neatly around the bird's tarsus. Melia in her letter, inquired they are coming to Ba Sing Se rapidly _"for the kids to bid farewell to their grandfather"_.

Recalling her mother's peculiar instructions, the girl shot her head upwards, but not too suddenly as to not startle the parent. She faced her uncle holding her aunt as she cried soundlessly to his chest. In confusion, she tilted her head slightly to her grandfather's direction, meeting with his tired, dull eyes her mother possessed as well.

The elder man chuckled towards her and extended his arm, the toddled stretching her small, chubby palm his way. Both lifted their pinky fingers and they let out a giggle when their fingers swirled around each other.

But mellow giggles of glee weren't so easy anymore.

Avatar Aang coughed and he coughed and he coughed. His children proceeded to aide him, an offer he denied with a wave of his wrinkled hand.

"You can't leave us... no, no, you can't..." lamented the young daughter, her palms folded together in front of her lips, as her brother gripped softly her shoulder and rested his forehead on her temple.

"Melia..." whispered Bumi, as if to reassure his twin that everything would be alright in the end.

Her own young children looked up to her, their twin garnet eyes glowing wide as if trying to comprehend their adult world. She offered them a smile, the corners of her lips curling upwards in a design of grief. She beckoned her arms and called them _"lovelies"_ as she always would, and the youth obliged and motioned to her, burying their sable heads to her stomach.

Behind them, the elder Avatar, the saviour of the world and all Four Nations, smiled.

* * *

Outside their house, masses of people clad in green and yellow stood and were all separated in groups, yet their union had one common cause. Tall men with toned arms and thick, brown hair hoisted ablaze torches, their searing flames of crimson, vermillion, and citron setting each and every narrow alley alight. Young children, some with bony, slender fingers and others with more aristocratic features, held in the nest within their palms aromatic candles, them too, attempting to invest in the grieving.

Eyes, some a dull green, others a pale grey or even a melting brown, gazed in apprehension the square window of a yellow-dyed house. Upon the windowsill were laid burning candles of different sizes, some taller and slimmer and others smaller and stout.

The air didn't blow; it was a scorching summer night, after all.

And yet, all the candles on the windowsill had their fire distinguished by the swift snap of someone's fingers. *****

* * *

Heavy eyelids blinked in fatigue, exposing grey irises that had gained their life again. The action was repeated several times; once, twice, three times, until their owner had finally adjusted to the blinding shafts of sunlight.

Tall trees laid before him. Huge and long they were, with colourful trunks and playful stripes. Lush, pink and blue blossoms were painted on their spiral branches, giving the scenery a tint of unique beauty.

The grass where he lied was bright and fresh and wet with crystal drops of summer rain. The soil was fertile as well, he detected, as a no longer wrinkled hand approached one of the numerous brilliant-coloured flowers. A _butterbee's daisy_ , he had chosen and twirled around his finger, as he recalled the said flower was his wife's favourite. Like the wings of the dainty insect, its petals were soft and fragile, white with spots of purple and yellow, while its centre had brown and ochre stripes, resembling the ones of a butterbee.

The man continued lying on his back, his mind lost in between his reverie of a beautiful lady from the Earth Kingdom and his newfound dream of reaching the endless, turquoise skies above him.

A rustle echoed from behind the shrubbery as ceasing steps followed.

His chapped lips heaved a loud gasp, while his dull, grey eyes brimmed with droplets of joy.

The two bodies collided with each other, melting and becoming one single entity.

"Oh, Aang..." cried the woman, her tears streaming down the curvy wrinkles of her rosy cheeks.

The man removed the stray strand of raven from her eyes, these lovely emerald irises he had missed waking up to, and whispered, "I love you, Tea. Please, don't ever leave me again."

* * *

 **A/N: So... Hi! This is my first ATLA story and I hope you'll like it! Also, in case you've read it from Wattpad, this fic has been republished under the title _'Disenchanted'_.**

 ***** Inspired by the finale of _'Evita'_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own the ATLA characters, only the OCs and the plot.**

 **ooo**

There were rainbows that day.

Countless rows of brilliant colours littered a clear, turquoise sky, as the festivity below was being held for another week.

Upon Avatar Aang's arrival, the Spirit World was shrouded with its jovial atmosphere after years of expecting. Every single entity that breathed the fresh air that smelled of exotic flowers and drank the sweetest nectar their dwelling could offer had all gathered to celebrate.

There were birds that chirped tunes of merriment and blossoms that seemed to dance to the fiddle's music and there were little humans who had left their own world a little too early, they too were exclaiming with their gleeful voices and circled around the person of interest asking him questions with big, excited and curious eyes.

There were Avatars of the past too, Aang almost crying in delight at seeing his old friend again, Roku. The joyful firebender and his grinning wife greeted him and Tea along with the previous occupants of the Cycle.

Yet, nothing compared to seeing his mentor again, Gyatso. The elder man smiled so widely the wrinkles on his pale face augmented and hid his eyes under layers of skin. Instantly, the sixty-six-year-old Avatar felt like a young child again, tears streaming down his eyelids and spread his arms, running towards the elder airbender.

The Plague. A virus that rose from the murkiest and most squalid of swamps of the Earth Kingdom, the tribes being unaware of the contaminated waters. Some could bend the element, yes, but what they couldn't distinguish were the augmenting bacteria that littered shamelessly the blue. Initially, no one had sensed anything, other than a little difference; it tasted bitter, well, bitter than it used to be. Then, the tribal presence gradually diminished, populations that suffered from famine immigrating to the bigger cities.

And people began blaming each other. The epidemic commenced when the filthy clans stepped on the wealthy land; at the time, it felt natural to denounce the foreigners with the tanned skins and lithe clothing. The communities didn't welcome them warmly as their tradition imposed and instead they ostracised them in the lowest pits of the capital. They called them names and threw rocks. In extreme cases where spawns of affluent families were involved, men with special skills, men who could control another as if they were puppets and they were holding their strings, men like these were hired in order to brutally assault the tribeswomen -fearing that the female sex continued incessantly the virus by bearing a child.

Then, the exiled people decided to fight against their beliefs. _"There, at the swamps... there were men who controlled the flames, yes!"_ one or two or perhaps more had declared. At first, their words went unnoticed; then someone agreed.

Rumours echoed within the two nations, plain faces of Royalty, mere veneers that smiled widely, grins that provoked misfortune as the one the Blue Spirit wore, hid whispers of insidious thinking.

Yet the Peace had to be preserved.

 _'But can it really be forced?'_ the late Avatar had once pondered.

It wasn't just a mere thought nor was it created during an arbitrary moment; Tea, his lovely wife had perished due to the Plague that haunted the world.

The first symptom: fever. Then, came a choleric chough, spit as crimson as blood following soon after. One day, the green-eyed woman of only fifty-five stated she couldn't walk. She slowly lost all her senses, including her earthbending. The poor woman had spent her last days aching from severe pain in her lower areas -as if her internal organs were being drained and splitting in half- while she remained chained to her bed; it was an old piece of furniture, a marital gift offered by her dearly beloved brother. Liao was his name and he was famous for his magnificent prowess in sculpting the timber. With excellent fingers, he had carved the woodwork all by himself, joking about how he never wished to marry.

Aang remained immovable to his belief that all four nations should preserve the Peace treaty, a promise each Lord had made years ago.

And then, a year later it was his time to bid adieu to his children, his wonderful children.

* * *

"Is this the Avatar Aang I presume?" a voice that resembled a baritone's awoke him from his musings.

The man who called him was tall and at first sight, the bender could guarantee that he was certainly of Fire Nation origins: a man of impeccable height, with a complexion paler that the cloudless moon, but with striking, dark eyes and hair. He was dressed elaborately, his robes sewed with the finest silks of crimson and gold, but it was not solely due to the garments that the stranger seemed so elegant. The manner in which the corners of his lips had moulded into a smile, the way his almond-shaped eyes spread warmth. The image of younger Melia came into his mind and Aang imagined how flustered she would be.

 _"He-He's s-so... handsome..."_ would be something the teenager would say.

"Yes, this is indeed me. May I ask who is inquiring?" wondered the elder with a youthful perk in his words.

"Pardon me, I must have forgotten my manners" the jaunty stranger bowed in respect, "Agni is my name young Avatar."

The Avatar emitted a hearty laugh, the joyful sound causing smiles at the crowd that celebrated nearby.

"Pardon my words, but I believe your eyes must have failed you, my boy. I am nothing near the word 'young'!"

"Oh, it is not the face I speak of but the heart and soul you bear, Avatar Aang!" he tutted playfully, his index waving disapprovingly in the air. "I sense the fire, the energy of youth burning within you!" and his words were accompanied by a fancy show of vermillion flames that danced in a merry-go-round fashion.

The monk giggled, wiping a teardrop from his eyelid, "I suppose I ought to be glad then, that I've managed to preserve that, at least!"

The duo joined in laughter and glee, the handsome man's ruby irises exclaiming as well as cries of unabashed merriment.

"Agni is your name, young man?" the bender of all elements questioned, "Should my memory not fool me, I believe Agni is the firebenders' God?"

Yet, the man in question only shook his head and tutted his lips."No, not God. I'm the Fire's Guardian."

His laconic reply bewildered the bald man and he rubbed awkwardly his flimsy stubble in utter confoundment.

"I am deeply sorry for confusing your role as a Spirit, yet I have to admit I wasn't aware of the existence of Element Guardians..." revealed he.

"Oh, I take no offence. Actually, you are not the first person to have been mistaken. Even previous Avatars hadn't acknowledged me.", his head tilted to the side as if remembering something, then his face generated an expression of agreement with his inner thoughts, "Well, with the exception of Avatar Kyoshi. She was of the few Avatars who had embraced their capabilities."

"Oh, yes." hummed Aang, "She was truly inspirational. She really did aid me in my younger days."

His smiles used to be the kindest, even the wrinkly dimples on his cheeks prooved his emotions. Now, his mouth was bathed in solemnity and darkness, the corners of his lips not quite meeting his eyes.

The Fire Guardian's eyelids sealed close in an abrupt moment. His lips parted slightly and heaved a light breath, his whole body relaxing.

"You know, as the Fire Guardian I can sense how your chakras exploit my element." the man's voice was tranquil, as calm as the sea before a tempest.

"Do you know what I see in your inner fire?" it was a rhetorical question, obviously, but the listener nodded for him to continue, eager to learn more. "Your inner flame is blue, as faint as the sky. It evokes your internal tranquillity. Yet, I feel a touch of red, as a sign of the disturbance of your peace."

With big eyes, the Avatar gazed in wonder as the Spirit analysed the colours of his soul. "Your power is truly fascinating!"

The sable-haired man shook his head, "It is merely my occupation, Avatar, to protect my element."

"The other Element Guardians? Will they come as well?"

"Naturally! Actually, the Earth Guardian is expected to arrive soon! The Water Guardians follow and lastly the Air Guardian."

 _'They come in order of the Cycle.'_ ascertained the elder. His white brows knitted close. _'Wait...Why the plural?'_

"You referred to Water as 'Guardians'... Are they more than one?"

The duo had long abandoned their fellow celebrators and had transported in a less-crowded location of the Spirit World. The land was verdant, full of wilderness and life, bizarre creatures no human ever saw flying and wandering around. There were endless fields of pretty blossoms and woods of spiral branches and cascades that streamed down a river, orchestrating an elfin serenade. Warmth dominated their pathway, as little flowers with striped stems and pink petals caressed the vermillion gravel of the road. The sky all of a sudden seemed infinite, as its previous turquoise had been replaced by soft-looking, velvet-like masses of air that resembled fruits one could find on a tropical island.

In contrast to this beauty, Agni's features had turned dark and sombre, the harsh edges that characterised his high cheekbones becoming more prevalent in a menacing manner that frightened Aang, who chose not to question it. His curvy brows with the pointy peaks that seemed so relaxed before, were knitted and narrowed, shadowing his ruby eyes that had an ominous glow. When once he felt rather amiable with the handsome man's towering height, the elder was now threatened by his position as a lithe dwarf.

"Yes. The Water Guardians are two. Tui and La." even his voice sounded more serious, yet the words were said with a mellow tone.

"Their Gods, the fish? They are the Guardians?" wondered Aang in sheer surprise.

"Tui, God of the Moon and La, Goddess of the Ocean. We, Element Guardians are profoundly connected to the Galaxy and the stars that dominate it. I am, for example, connected to the Sun." he declared, bitterness lacing his voice.

"And their fish-form?"

"They decided a long time ago before you were born-"

Their conversation was interrupted by Tea who was running towards them, waving her arms in the air.

Her carefree silhouette had turned into a long-forgotten memory buried in the deepest pits of his mind. Aang couldn't describe their last moments as husband and wife before the tragedy had taken her away from him.

"Tea, what is it?"

"The Spirits! They're coming!"

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! Please, do accept my most humble apologies. I didn't mean to take so long to update. It is really bothersome to carry so many ideas, to literally know the whole story from the beginning till the end, but the hard part is to write it! As I was stuck with a major writer's block on this book, my health slowed me down as well. Actually, I'm sick at this very moment.  
**

 **Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this chapter even if it doesn't describe much, but there were small introductions into things that I'll use in the future! Please review!**

 ** _'But can it really be forced?'_ : Reference to Einstein's quote: 'Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding.'**


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